


Old Times

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [108]
Category: Elementary (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Magic!Stiles, cabal!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:50:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cosmictuesdays asked for: Elementary/Teen Wolf; the Stilinskis pitching in with Sherlock and Joan. The Sheriff is the only adult there who’s fine with his son’s magic. (Throw in the Avengers if you want a reason for Stiles to be in NYC - Sherlock would HAVE to meet Strange.)</p><p>(A/N: yep, I think cabal!verse now includes Bruce and Joan being bitchfest friends, jsyk)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Times

When Bruce had asked for a favour, Joan hadn’t hesitated to say yes.  Perhaps she should have been a little more circumspect, but to be fair, Sherlock was always insisting this was her home too, and they did have a guest room.

"I’ll leave you to settle in, Sheriff" Joan smiled at the older man slinging his overnight bag on the bed.

He grinned at her, easy and warm.  ”Call me John.”

Joan found herself liking John Stilinski even though all she knew about him was that his son was Bruce’s…if not friend, good acquaintance anyway, visiting for the weekend.  ”If you don’t mind me asking,” she probed gently.  ”Why aren’t you staying at the Tower?”

"Tower?" John asked, confused, and Joan flinched. 

"Nevermind," she backtracked quickly.  "You’re more than welcome to stay here."  She was going to kill Bruce for not giving her more information.

"Watson!"  Sherlock appeared at the head of the stairs, cutting off John’s next question.  "What are the limits for exsanguination before an adult male would cease to be mobile?" 

John blinked as Joan winced.  ”Sherlock, we have a visitor.”

Sherlock eyed John up and down.  ”Do you know much about blood trail patterns…” Joan saw Sherlock’s gaze flick to half a dozen different points, could almost hear his mind put together the clues.  ”…Sheriff?”

"Stilinski," John said, holding out his hand.  "And more than I’d care to."  He was obviously ready for an explanation.

Sherlock’s involved holding up a ziplock bag full of bloody fabric.  ”We need to find the previous owner of this shirt to save a young boy’s life.  Unfortunately, despite the copious volumes of blood at the crime scene, we are deficient in useful leads.”

"May I?" I quiet voice asked behind them.  Joan leapt a foot in the air as an oddly attractive young man who definitely wasn’t there thirty seconds ago snaked past her, smiling sunnily at her guest.  "Hey dad.  Bruce said I’d find you here."

John hugged his son, then turned him around.  ”Good to see you too, Stiles.  However, lost boy and a lot of blood.  I think we should help them.”

The boy, Stiles, laughed.  ”Just like old times.”  Joan didn’t miss the pained expression on John’s face.

Sherlock made a sudden noise of protest as Stiles grabbed the evidence bag, opened the ziplock, and dipped his finger into the mess inside.  Joan’s belayed comment froze in her throat as black lines inked their way up the back of Stile’s hand and under the cuff of his shirt.  When Joan looked up to Stiles’ face, his eyes were black.  ”Oh,” Stiles said distantly.  ”Ritual sacrifice.  How passe.”

John made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, and reached for his jacket.  ”Definitely just like old times.”


End file.
